


i will hold you til i hold you right

by LoveWithAGirl



Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Vaguely Eldritch Clayton Sharpe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 15:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveWithAGirl/pseuds/LoveWithAGirl
Summary: He wakes up to his first alarm and Clayton’s snores, and takes an extra minute to say a prayer thanking God for the second chances they’ve both been given.He then risks a black eye from a flailing limb by tickling Clayton awake. The familiar snorts and giggles only come from one direction, and Clayton’s smile fits his face, and his skin is warm under Matthew’s hands.“I love you,” he breathes against Clayton’s mouth once he finally lets up and their laughter has subsided, “all of you,” and he watches his husband’s eyes go liquid and soft, and has to kiss him.
Relationships: Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54
Collections: Yee-Hawligays Undeadwood Fic Exchange





	i will hold you til i hold you right

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an Undeadwood discord fic exchange! The prompt was something slightly angsty but also domestic, so I ran away with it a little bit and took a hard left into something vaguely edlritch around the edges.
> 
> I had fun with this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Matthew wakes up, and he isn’t sure why, but it feels late, so he rolls over and reaches out, feels out to where there should be a warm body and only finds cold sheets.

Matthew opens his eyes, and even though the room is dark, he can see that there’s no one else, can’t hear any movement; the bedroom door is cracked, though, and a faint light is shining down the hall. He sighs and stretches out, rubs a hand over his face and sits up to get out of the bed. He reaches out to grab his glasses, slides them on and then turns on the small lamp on his bedside table so he can find where his shirt and boxers ended up, pulls them on while making his way toward the door.

There’s no sound coming from anywhere in the house, no scuffing of feet or quiet music, so Matthew follows the light down to the other side of the house.

It’s a lot narrower than it should be, more of a pale beam than a soft glow, and stretches farther than one lightsource should, but that’s alright.

Clayton is sitting at their kitchen table, wearing only an old pair of flannel pajama pants, pictures laid out in front of him, and his eyes so far away that Matthew stops in the doorway; his face is not the one Matthew is used to waking up to, and Matthew’s heart aches.

“Clayton,” he says his name carefully, loud enough to reach his ears but not enough to startle, “sweetheart, come back to me.” He stays there, waits, watches as Clayton blinks once, twice, and slowly his face changes, shifts, until it’s his Clayton sitting at the table and looking over at him.

“Hey, Matty,” and his voice is hoarse, low, not what it should be. Matthew still feels tension leave his own body as he steps into the room, slowly makes his way over to Clayton, making sure to stay in his line of sight.

“Where’d you go?” He reaches out for Clayton slowly, telegraphing his movement, but Clayton leans in towards him a fraction as he starts to shuffle the pictures together, and it’s all the invitation Matthew needs. He slides his hand over Clayton’s cheek and around, ducks to kiss the top of his head and cards his fingers through his hair, and Clayton hums softly.

“Before I knew any of you.” He doesn’t elaborate, but he does reach up for Matthew, and Matthew takes his hand with his free one, leans down to press his mouth to the silver band on his ring finger, and Clayton relaxes further, leans sideways into him.

He feels cold through Matthew’s shirt, his fingers against Matthew’s skin, even though Matthew can hear the heater running and he’s sitting right under the vent. Matthew just presses another kiss to the ring he picked out and squeezes his hand.

“Alright. How long you been out here?” He keeps carding his fingers through Clayton’s hair, catches a glimpse of a photo from Miriam and Arabella’s wedding before his husband finishes sorting all of the pictures he’d had strewn out into a neat pile that Matthew knows he likes to keep in chronological order.

He lets go of Clayton’s hand gently, reaches down to carefully tug the corner of a different photograph of Alyosius out from where Clayton had put it and slide it back in the stack three spots ahead.

“A while,” Clayton takes Matthew’s hand again and kisses his ring this time, hums softly and leaves his mouth pressed to Matthew’s skin, “I had a nightmare and needed to remind myself that this is where I am now.”

His lips are just as cold as the rest of him, and a small part of Matthew expects to see Clayton’s breath form a cloud in front of him.

“You want to talk about it?” He presses his mouth to the top of Clayton’s head again, slides his hand down out of his hair to curl around the back of his neck, rests two fingers over his pulse point. Clayton huffs out a hoarse laugh that sounds more like the trees that scratched the windows of their old place, reading Matthew as easy as a book, and Matthew smiles sheepishly against his hair.

There’s a beat he can feel under the thin skin of Clayton’s neck, slower than normal, but steady. It’s enough.

“No, but thank you.” He sounds more settled, even, and Matthew is curious but he respects him, kisses his head again and squeezes his neck before straightening up and gently pulling away, heading for the far counter.

“Of course,” simple and easy, because it always is, especially for Clayton, and he looks over his shoulder to see his husband smiling down at the table. “Tea or coffee?”

“Tea. You gotta be up early.” Matthew hums agreement and grabs the kettle, filling it up before setting it on the stove and turning it on to heat.

“Yeah, but I’m not letting you sit up all night by yourself.” He pulls the herbal tea out of the cabinet, peach for himself and blueberry for Clayton, and then turns to lean against the counter to face Clayton, raising an eyebrow at him.

His husband doesn’t bother pretending to look chagrined or abashed, just nods and pushes the stack of pictures to the far side of the table.

“Tea, and then we’ll go back to bed,” Clayton agrees, smiles crookedly over at Matthew, and the sight of it is more soothing than anything he’s ever encountered.

If his teeth don’t seem to fit quite right, well, that’ll settle, too.

The kitchen is warm, and the silence that settles over them is comfortable, familiar. Matthew pours the water into their mugs when the kettle starts to whistle, adds the tea bags and brings them over to the table. He’s halfway to sitting before he notices Clayton’s bemused expression, and he quickly and sheepishly goes back to turn the stove off. Clayton’s laughing again when he sits next to him, and Matthew rolls his eyes but can’t help his own smile as he hooks a foot under the rung of Clayton’s chair and drags him closer. Their knees press together and their arms brush, and Clayton is still cold to the touch but Matthew just leans into him anyway and watches him start to drink his tea without somehow burning himself.

“You going to be able to sleep?” He asks it a while later, once they’ve both finished their tea and Clayton’s taken the mugs over to the sink. He watches his husband shrug, and the way his shoulders and spine move under his skin seem a little disjointed, but Matthew blinks and he’s turning, already coming back and holding out a hand.

Matthew stands and takes it, always, curls his warm palm around Clayton’s cool one and follows him towards the doorway.

“I don’t know,” and it’s not the answer Matthew would like to hear but Clayton’s being honest, and Matthew appreciates that even more, “but I know I want you to hold me.” His voice is soft, and he squeezes Matthew’s hand as he says it, and Matthew can’t help the smile that crosses his face.

“I can do that.” He turns off the kitchen light as they leave, follows Clayton in the darkness through the rest of their house, trusts him not to let him run into anything or trip, until they get back to the bedroom, where his lamp is still softly glowing. He lets go of Clayton’s hand to tug his shirt up and over his head, and he grins when his husband catches it before it can hit the floor and pulls it on instead.

It bags on his frame, and even with strange shadows that the lamp shouldn’t cast behind him he’s the most beautiful thing Matthew’s ever seen.

He waits until they’re both under the blanket again before he turns off the lamp, and even as he rolls over to face Clayton his husband is already in his arms, pressing his cold nose against Matthew’s neck and his icy fingers to Matthew’s stomach.

He’s still softly laughing at the yelp Matthew had let out as they settle. Matthew grumbles absently but doesn’t let go of Clayton, just relaxes into the bed and lets his arms go heavy around him.

Sleep pulls him back under swiftly, and the fond laughter that echoes from the corners of their room follows into his dreams.

He wakes up to his first alarm and Clayton’s snores, and takes an extra minute to say a prayer thanking God for the second chances they’ve both been given.

He then risks a black eye from a flailing limb by tickling Clayton awake. The familiar snorts and giggles only come from one direction, and Clayton’s smile fits his face, and his skin is warm under Matthew’s hands.

“I love you,” he breathes against Clayton’s mouth once he finally lets up and their laughter has subsided, “all of you,” and he watches his husband’s eyes go liquid and soft, and has to kiss him. Clayton kisses back gently and curls his arms around Matthew’s neck, nudges their noses together when he pulls away.

“I love you, too,” and he smiles again, they’re both smiling like idiots, “every part of me does.”

It’s the most comforting promise anyone has ever made to Matthew, and one he knows is never going to be broken, and he has to kiss his husband again, and again, and again.

The relentless teasing he gets from the youth group when he shows up to breakfast fifteen minutes late is worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this!! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! I really tried to stay true to characterization.
> 
> Title is from "Lost" by Dermot Kennedy, because I'm predictable and really love the lyrics from that song.
> 
> I listened to some songs about being left behind and some songs about being love when I wrote this, and the combination seemed to work! Thank you again for reading
> 
> If you'd like to, you can come find me and talk to me on [tumblr](https://lovewithagirl.tumblr.com/) and [twitter!](https://twitter.com/daleytwin2/) (temporarily this [twitter!](https://twitter.com/SiobhanYours/) too).


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